Definitely Dead (Sookie Stackhouse #6)(73)
Author: Charlaine Harris

"The suspense is killing me," said Quinn, eyeing my chest. He looked wonderful in a tux. My wrist bandages stuck out against my tan like strange bracelets; in fact, one of them was acutely uncomfortable, and I was anxious to take it off. But the wrist would have to stay covered a while, though the bite on my left arm could remain uncovered. Maybe the suspense about my boobs would distract party-goers from the fact that my face was swollen and discolored on one side.

Quinn, of course, looked as though nothing had ever happened to him. Not only did he have the quick-healing flesh of most shape-shifters, but a man’s tux covers up a lot of injuries.

"Don’t you make me feel any more self-conscious than I already do," I said. "For about a dime, I’d go crawl back into bed and sleep for a week."

"I’m up for that, though I’d reduce the sleep time," Quinn said sincerely. "But for our peace of mind, I think we better do this first. By the way, my suspense was about the trip to the bank, not your dress. I figure, with your dress, it’s a win-win situation. If you stay in it, good. If you don’t, even better."

I looked away, trying to control an involuntary smile. "The trip to the bank." That seemed like a safe topic. "Well, her bank account didn’t have a lot in it, which I figured would be the case. Hadley didn’t have much sense about money. Hadley didn’t have much sense, period. But the safe-deposit box…"

The safe-deposit box had held Hadley’s birth certificate, a marriage license, and a divorce decree dated more than three years ago – both naming the same man, I was glad to see – and a laminated copy of my aunt’s obituary. Hadley had known when her mother had died, and she’d cared enough to keep the clipping. There were pictures from our shared childhood, too: my mother and her sister; my mother and Jason, me, and Hadley; my grandmother and her husband. There was a pretty necklace with sapphires and diamonds (which Mr. Cataliades had said the queen had given to Hadley), and a pair of matching earrings. There were a couple more things that I wanted to think about.

But the queen’s bracelet was not there. That was why Mr. Cataliades had wanted to accompany me, I think; he half expected the bracelet would be there, and he seemed quite anxious when I held the lockbox out to him so he could see its contents for himself.

"I finished packing the kitchen stuff this afternoon after Cataliades took me back to Hadley’s apartment," I said to Quinn, and watched his reaction. I would never again take the disinterestedness of my companions for granted. I found myself fairly convinced Quinn had not been helping me pack the day before in order to search for something, after I saw that his reaction was perfectly calm.

"That’s good," he said. "Sorry I didn’t make it over to help you today. I was closing out Jake’s dealings with Special Events. I had to call my partners, let them know. I had to call Jake’s girlfriend. He wasn’t steady enough to be around her, if she even wants to see him again. She’s not a vamp lover, to put it mildly."

At the moment, I wasn’t either. I couldn’t fathom the true reason the queen wanted me at the party, but I had found another reason to see her. Quinn smiled at me, and I smiled back at him, hoping that some good would come out of this evening. I had to admit to myself that I was a bit curious about seeing the queen’s party barn, so to speak – and I was also kind of glad to dress up and be pretty after all the swamp slogging.

As we drove, I almost opened a conversation with Quinn at least three times – but on every occasion, when it got to the point, I kept my mouth shut.

"We’re getting close," he told me when we’d reached one of the oldest neighborhoods in New Orleans, the Garden District. The houses, set in beautiful grounds, would cost many times what even the Bellefleur mansion would fetch. In the middle of these marvelous homes, we came to a high wall that extended for a whole block. This was the renovated monastery that the queen used for entertaining.

There might be other gates at the back of the property, but tonight all the traffic was moving through the main front entrance. It was heavily protected with the most efficient guards of all: vampires. I wondered if Sophie-Anne Leclerq was paranoid, or wise, or simply did not feel loved (or safe) in her adopted city. I was sure the queen also had the regular security provisions – cameras, infrared motion detectors, razor wire, maybe even guard dogs. There was security out the ying-yang here, where the elite vampires occasionally partied with the elite humans. Tonight the party was supes only, the first large party the newlyweds had given since they’d become a couple.

Three of the queen’s vampires were at the gate, along with three of the Arkansas vampires. Peter Threadgill’s vampires all wore a uniform, though I suspected the king called it livery. The Arkansas bloodsuckers, male and female, were wearing white suits with blue shirts and red vests. I didn’t know if the king was ultrapatriotic or if the colors had been chosen because they were in the Arkansas state flag as well as the U.S. flag. Whichever, the suits were beyond tacky and into some fashion hall of shame, all on their own. And Threadgill had been dressed so conservatively! Was this some tradition I’d never heard of? Gosh, even I knew better than that, tastewise, and I bought most of my clothes at Wal-Mart.

Quinn had the queen’s card to show to the guards at the gate, but still they called up to the main house. Quinn looked uneasy, and I hoped he was as concerned as I was about the extreme security and the fact that Threadgills vampires had worked so hard to distinguish themselves from the queen’s adherents. I was thinking hard about the queen’s need to offer the king’s vamps a reason she would go upstairs with me at Hadley’s. I thought of the anxiety she displayed when she asked about the bracelet. I thought of the presence of both camps of vampires at the main gate. Neither monarch trusted the spouse to provide protection.

It seemed like a long time before we were given leave to pass through. Quinn was as quiet as I while we waited.

The grounds seemed to be beautifully landscaped and kept, and they were certainly well lit.

"Quinn, this is just wrong," I said. "What’s going on here? Do you think they’d let us leave?" Unfortunately, it seemed as though all my suspicions were true.

Quinn didn’t look any happier than I was. "They won’t let us out," he said. "We have to go on now." I clutched my little evening bag closer to me, wishing there was something more lethal in it than a few small items like a compact and a lipstick, and a tampon. Quinn drove us carefully up the winding drive to the front of the monastery.

"What did you do today, besides work on your outfit?" Quinn asked.

"I made a lot of phone calls," I said. "And one of them paid off."